


We Understand Each Other

by scribblemyname



Series: Be Compromised 2014 Promptathon [25]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Community: be_compromised, Developing Relationship, F/M, Natasha Romanov Joins SHIELD, Partnership, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Role Reversal, Romance, Sparring, Spies & Assassins, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/scribblemyname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has too much heart for his own good.</p><p>Or 5 Times Natasha Didn't Trust Herself and 1 Time She Trusted Clint</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Understand Each Other

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SneakyHufflepuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SneakyHufflepuff/gifts).



> Prompt by hufflepuffsneak: [Trusting Clint was easy. Trusting herself around him? Not so much.](http://be-compromised.livejournal.com/412023.html?thread=7863927#t7863927)

Natasha tells the story so many different ways: Barton chose not to kill me, he made a different call, Clint apparently still had to reach his monthly quota of ticking off Fury.

She never does tell the blunt truth: she took one look at that innocent assassin with too much heart for his own good and thought it would be a waste to let it get him killed. She went with him to save him.

* * *

Fury sat down across from her, the director himself and it would have surprised her but it didn't: Natasha was already the most dangerous known assassin in the world.

"Lovely accommodations," she deadpanned.

"What I can't figure out, Ms. Romanov," Fury began without preamble, "is what SHIELD could possibly have to offer you." He folded his hands together and looked at her out of his one good eye, an unspoken, _'We understand each other, don't we?'_

She cracked a smile. "Barton is very easy to trust."

Fury didn't buy that for a second. "Coulson trusts his judgment. I'd like to know what that judgment was based on."

Natasha's heart sank a little. He'd just confirmed what she had suspected: Clint had been running more on gut instinct than calculated decision. Her self-appointed task would be difficult at best. "Perhaps Agent Barton could be called endearing," she added flatly. "He inspires affection."

Fury snorted in good humor. "You mean he inspires someone to protect him from himself. I'm assuming you'd like to be partnered with him as well."

She glared at him. No need to call her on it.

"I never thought the Widow had a thing for strays." He grinned as he leaned forward with her paperwork.

Then again, Fury also had a thing for strays.

* * *

Trusting Clint _was_ easy. Trusting herself around him? Not so much. He was just good enough to get himself killed.

"Where did you learn to twist like that?" she demanded, scrambling off him as fast as she could on the sparring mats.

Natasha knew precisely how to pin a man, how to paralyze him, how to kill him, but then Clint Barton had to be _more_ flexible than her and compensate in the unexpected direction. He'd winded her with the move, but her reflexes had nearly returned a killing blow.

"Hang on a sec," he rasped from on his back beside her. "Gotta breathe."

She shook her head hopelessly at him. No one had ever taught him to hold back, had they?

"Carnie," he finally managed.

She ran through her mental framework to figure out the implications of that. "You worked at a carnival?"

"Yep." He grinned as he got up, breath caught. "Bow and arrow, knives, sword, acrobatics…" He trailed off and shrugged. "Who said you can't still run away to the circus?"

If Natasha muttered curses in Russian, at least no one knew just why it left her so frustrated.

* * *

She really didn't understand him a bit, and Clint was all too willing to teach her. He dragged Natasha everywhere: to cheap diners she'd just as soon skip, to his place for movies and tv nights, to the ballet (for her), to an actual passing carnival (for him). He kept a smile on his face as he shared with her bits and pieces of himself, but she could see the wounded places behind the stories and laughter. He was surprisingly resilient for all he'd been hurt by everyone he'd ever trusted.

"Clint," she asked one night, curled under his arm on the couch. "You don't trust me, do you?"

He blinked and took a good look at her face.

Natasha wasn't often vulnerable, but she was staring at him with wide, worried eyes as she asked.

"Of course, I do." His arm tightened around her. "You're my partner."

She didn't hide that it troubled her. "But if I ever tried to hurt you," she insisted, "you wouldn't let me."

It wasn't a question Clint could answer to her satisfaction, so he didn't even try. "Okay. Contingency plans, then. What do you want me to do if you ever go rogue?"

They hashed out their solutions to all manner of painful possibilities, but really none of it was anywhere near good enough. Natasha wasn't worried about being compromised and hurting Clint. She was worried about being herself and in her right mind and hurting him because he had a heart too big for the work they did and for all the trouble he'd survived.

Trusting Clint was easy. Trusting herself around him? Not so much.

* * *

"Trust me," he breathed, hands on her body where she only _ever_ allowed the hands of those she trusted.

"I trust you, Clint."

She didn't tell him that she didn't trust herself. She didn't tell him she knew one day she would break his heart because that is what people like her did.

"I love you," he breathed afterward and she stayed silent.

Love is for children. Love is for those not ordered to stand in front of their lover's chair as they watched his memories wiped away. Love is for those who have something to offer.

* * *

"Stop trying to protect me," Clint told her after the latest disastrous get together with Tony can't-leave-well-enough-alone Stark.

Natasha glared at him. "I wasn't trying to—"

"You interrupted every conversation," he cut her over. "You stood between me and Thor, as if I'd somehow mistake one brother for another. You dismembered Stark with your eyes when he asked questions I didn't want to answer. Nat. I love you, but let me handle this."

His anger blew out into pleading. He was always so forgiving, so endlessly patient, even when Natasha would have thought it impossible.

"Fine."

She would back off, even if it killed her. At least that's what she told herself until the next time Stark put his foot in it. She wrote an apologetic note to Pepper for her future absence and took more jobs with Steve at SHIELD.

She couldn't trust herself around Clint in a civilian environment with anyone she wanted to protect him from.

* * *

"Tasha."

Natasha woke up slowly, suddenly tense when she realized she had been sufficiently unaware of her surroundings for Clint to hack her security system and slip quietly into her safehouse, then her room, and lean over the bed to gently brush back her hair.

She stared at him. "You shouldn't startle me."

He smiled at her, soft and indulgent, the way she always used to smile at him. "I didn't." His fingers played tenderly with her hair, smooth and a little less red than when he last saw her. They trailed down to her collarbone and rubbed over the tiny arrow at her neck. He kissed her forehead. "Sometimes I think you forget I can handle startling you awake."

Her hands reached up, fingers finding purchase in his sleeves, as she hauled herself up to kiss him properly.

He knew her every tell, her every face and mask, every cover she'd blown bringing down SHIELD and the person hiding underneath them.

"If I tried to hurt you, Clint…"

He hushed her, finger to her lips. "I'd fight you tooth and nail to remind you that you can trust me." He removed his hand and covered her mouth with his.

Natasha let the words settle into the dusty corners of the room and the warmth of their embrace. She trusted him. She trusted him to know if he couldn't trust her.


End file.
